Chapter Seven
by Paula B and CJ
16 July 1564
Outside Slave Pens
Rua Senhora De Graça
Late Evening
Victor Galindez looked exceedingly uncomfortable. Webb just shook his head in disbelief. "What I want know is where did you get it?"
"Where do you think?" Victor hissed as he pulled the iron breastplate over his chest, taking care to adjust the straps at his side. The striped pantaloons were cut at the knee and bright red hose covered his calves. Simple hobnailed boots completed the picture. "I stole them from a drunk in the tavern down the street."
"Won’t he miss them? Considering that you stripped him clean?" Webb looked out through the slit in the blanket covering the window. The dwellings on this side of the path looked out to the main gate of the auction house, though fortress would be a better description. The moon, full and bright clearly illuminated the high thick walls. The smooth front was broken only by the heavily barricaded, equally thick wooden door. Three rough looking guards, each carrying a musket and pike stood guard in front of it.
When Galindez didn’t answer, Webb stared at him and whispered. "You didn’t?"
The Spaniard never looked up from fixing the last of his armor. "What is more important to you, Senor? The lives of the women or the life of one man who, should he awaken or be discovered, would ruin our plans? Besides, you understood enough to know that he did not hold the women inside that place with the same – shall we say – respect that you or I would."
Galindez had him there. Webb thought back on the meeting above Volteiro’s cantina. When they had learned from Rabb that this was where Palmer had taken the women, they agreed that Tronada would return to the Trident and inform Captain Chegwidden.
Rabb had insisted that Palmer was sleeping on the Gorgon tonight and would return to Rua Senhora de Graça on the following afternoon. "I’ll see if there is anything else I can learn. When he leaves the ship, I will too. Where shall we meet?" There was an almost boyish enthusiasm in Rabb’s voice. A look of excitement and determination was set on his face.
Webb wasn’t sure why he believed the first mate of the Gorgon, but he did. Besides, Michael Roberts also seemed adamant that they save Francesca Chegwidden. Webb was sure that the coxswain of the Gorgon would help the first mate as needed. "Meet Tronada and our men here by noon. From everything you’ve told us and from what Tronada knows they will hold off selling the Englishwomen until later, hoping to sell the field hands and servants first. This will leave the serious bidders until last. They will be hot and anxious and likely to bid fast and too high. Do we know who else will be there?"
Tronada’s father hadtold them much of slave market and what Webb hadheard sickened him. "The commandante of the garrison at Ayamonte, just over the border, usually sends a man to pick out servant girls, laborers and the occasional diversion. This morning I saw a soldier that often comes to the auction heading in the direction of the slave market." (Who is speaking? When did they meet Tronada's father? )
"Just one man?" Webb had asked.
"Yes." Volteiro nodded. "The messenger will go and pick several likely candidates – if there are any and then the commandante himself will come with the full payment. He has been doing this for many years. He has gone through many diversions." He finished bitterly. As a good Christian, Volteiro didn’t hold with slavery or the defiling of any woman.
Galindez had wanted to go by himself, but Webb had insisted and together they had visited several other taverns each one closer to the slave market. In the last one they had stumbled upon Sergeant Luis Ortega, already under the influence of the potent clear spirits in his goblet. Webb, who spoke excellent French and Dutch, acceptable Italian but barely passable Spanish, let Victor handle the man. Webb had managed to keep up with flow of the conversation, happy that Ortega had pretty much ignored him. The solder seemed to prefer trading sexual exploits with the Spanish pirate.
When Ortega had announced loudly that he needed to relieve himself, Galindez rose with him and held his arm. Leaning over to pick up his goblet one last time Galindez muttered to Webb, "I’ll meet you across the street." Not ten minutes later he showed up with a heavy bundle. "Come on. I know a place we can rent a room."
Webb turned from the window, letting the blanket fall back into place. "You’re sure you believed him when he said he’s done this before this late at night?"
Galindez shrugged. "I’m just happy he said that he isn’t the only messenger the commandante has sent."
"Well what are you going to say or do IF they let you ‘evaluate the merchandise.’" Webb shuddered and wished it were he going in instead. But he didn’t dare trust his minor command of the language or that Sarah or Beth wouldn’t say something that would get them all killed.
"I’ll have to see how it goes, Webb. If I can I’ll give one of them your dagger. You say the Lady Beth will know it."
"Either one should know it. The queen gave six of us these daggers. Each is handmade and each one carries the family crest. See."
"It is very beautiful. Why did you offer it to me?"
Webb waved his hand in dismissal. "You wanted Hatton’s – I gave you mine."
"And I will try and leave it with the lovely Lady Beth." Galindez grinned. "She is a fiery one – no?"
Webb laughed ruefully. In each of the bars they had sat in to no avail, Webb had told Galindez of each woman, describing them perfectly, giving him little details to drop so that they would know that Galindez and he were allies. "Yes, my friend, she is fiery."
"Good, I may like her." He grinned slyly until Webb grabbed him by the throat.
"Their honor is mine, sir," Galindez gritted out. He nodded and waited until Webb finally released him.
Picking up his helmet, the pirate went to the door before finally answering softly. "Their honor will be mine also, Lord Clayton."
It had been easier than he expected. After speaking with one of the guards who, in turn, spoke to someone behind the spyhole, Galindez only had to wait a few minutes before the small door within the larger gate was opened to him. The slave master himself met him. "You’re later than normal." He snarled. His dirty white shirt hung over his belly and he wore outrageous slippers instead of boots. His hair, what little he had was mussed from sleep. When he spoke, Victor had to back away from the foul stench of his breath.
"I’ve never been here before, senor. Sergeant Ortiz was supposed to have come be he got too drunk so Commandante Rendondo sent me instead, Senor Coleiro." The slave master was known throughout the town, though few of the townspeople admitted to acknowledging the man’s existence without spitting afterward. Now the man just waited. "Is there a problem, senor?"
"Ah, I see that you are unaware of the custom here, Sergeant." He licked his fat lips and wheezed. "You get a preview of the merchandise tonight, but it isn’t free you understand." He rubbed his fingers together.
"Ah, of course, senor. Forgive me. As you say, I am unaware of the customs here." Victor wasn’t surprised, though Ortiz hadn’t mentioned anything about a bribe. In fact, he rather doubted that most of the regular messengers ever paid for the privilege of picking out the commandante’s playthings. However, he reached into the pouch on his hip and drew out a copper coin. "Is this enough?"
Coleiro’s laugh almost brought him to his knees. "Only if you just want to look, Sergeant. If you wish to touch or to be alone with any of them, then it will cost you more." He stepped closer and Galindez steeled himself not to blanch. "I have three lovelies that I’m sure that Rendondo will want. Of course, with them, you may not deflower. But there are other ways, are there not?" His leer turned into a hacking wheeze.
Galindez fought the urge to sink the dagger on his belt into Coleiro's soft gut. Instead he reached into the purse and brought out a small silver coin. "Perhaps I will dally with one or two, but that will be my choice. Now show me these women who you say Rendondo will want."
All sailors are either superstitious or religious. Until this very moment, Galindez would have argued the point. He couldn’t remember the last time he prayed to God, but he found himself reverently asking for strength as he was led down the dank corridor. Most of the slave cells were simple barred cages holding as many men or women as was subhumanly possible.
Victor had seen much in his travels. He had done things that he knew he would have to answer for come the Judgment Day. But nothing in his life had prepared him for the wretched squalor that he beheld. The only stench that came close to the holding pens was the becalmed ship they had come upon outside the Sargasso Sea two years ago. The entire crew had died of the Black Death. His captain hadn’t realized it until three of them had climbed on board. As soon as they realized what it was they had jumped back into the sea. Blackbeard had been kind. He had cut loose one of the lifeboats and left it to them. "If yea make back to shore lads, then it is God’s will." They had - after three weeks, but none of them had sailed with Blackbeard again.
Galindez had been the luckiest. He signed on as first mate of The Revenge only to have that ship come under attack by British warships. After the captain tried to surrender, Galindez overpowered him and escaped, with their plunder. The men insisted that he take command and in the eighteen months he captained her, the Revenge was one of the most feared pirate ships on the main. He considered himself an honorable man who never tortured prisoners; never even held them for ransom. He was after plunder pure and simple and made sure to drop his captives off near a town where they could expect help.
"You see here we have strong bucks from the coast of Africa. They will fetch a good price. You can work them all day and they don’t tire."
Galindez remembered the story he and Webb had worked out. "The commandante doesn’t need field hands. He needs a maid for his kitchen and a woman to take care of his…personal needs."
"Ah. Well then come right this way." Coleiro hacked and spat into a corner. Taking a key from his pocket he stopped outside a heavy door. Opening the spy hole, he yelled in. "Wake up. There’s someone here for a private viewing." The man laughed so hard he convulsed into racking coughs. Galindez pushed him out of the way and quickly opened the door.
The three women huddled together in the far corner. Galindez turned, reached outside and took the burning torch and held it up to better see them. Placing the torch in its holder inside the cell and closing the door, he stepped closer. Cocking his head he heard Coleiro wheezing for one of the guards to bring him some water. Raising his voice slightly Galindez began. "Very pretty indeed, Senor Coleiro. The Commandante will be very pleased to have any or all of them." He stepped in front of the first woman and dropped his voice. "You are Lady Sarah MacKenzie? No. Do not say anything just nod."
Sarah looked at the Spaniard and shuddered. <<<Was this a trick? How does he know my name?>>> She tried to think, but before she could nod, Beth hissed out. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"Ah, and you would be the charming Lady Beth who does so well with swords. I cannot give you a sword, my Lady, but Lord Clayton said you might find a way to use this. He said to point out the crest, though I don’t think you can see it in this dim light. Do not try anything while you are inside. We will try and buy you tomorrow. I do not know how much money we will have but…" He had already pressed Webb’s dirk into Beth’s surprised grasp and moved on to the next woman. "And you…." He found himself falling into deep pools of rich dark tea. "Madre del dios!" He breathed. Taking her hand in his he whispered. "Lady Francesca!"
He was the man from the dream. Quickly she crossed herself with her free hand, but didn’t try and pull the other from his. "Nay, kind sir. I’m no Lady." Tears sprang to her eyes and she did try and pull away then.
He saw her awe turn to shame and he knew at once what had happened. A hot anger seized him. "Tell me who has done this to you. I will have his head!" He hissed. Just then the door pushed open.
"Sergeant! Have you had your fill?" Coleiro wheezed, still trying to catch his breath.
Galindez’s face hardened but her touch calmed him. Looking into her calm, sad eyes he forced himself to take a deep breath before turning. "Si, Senor Coleiro. I think I have seen enough. Commandante Rendondo will be very pleased when I tell him. I am unsure if he will be able to come himself, but he will send the money by a trusted agent."
"Good, good." Another wheeze and cough, followed by a hacking spit silenced the foul-smelling creature and quickly Galindez left the room.
Webb hadn’t stopped pacing since Galindez left over an hour before. Visions of the Spanish pirate being found out or recognized haunted him. The wine and rancid food they had been forced to eat in the taverns while they searched for Ortega threatened to leave him. He had just decided to go and see if he could figure out a way to get inside when the door burst open. Whirling, his sword already in his hand he found Galindez already closing the door. "Well?" He sheathed his sword.
"They are there!" Galindez bit off. "I go to kill Palmer now!"
"Tonight! Why!"
"Why! You ask me why! If it was your precious Lady Sarah would you ask why!"
Webb grabbed the pirate and forced the man to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you learned!"
"He raped her!"
Webb let go of him and sank to the small footstool near the bed. "Francesca." He had suspected it ever since he and Tronada had talked to the strumpet Singer in The Mast and Anchor. Her words came back now. "He said something about finding a willing lass." He hadn’t even realized he had repeated Lauren’s words out loud until he found himself being raised from the stool, Galindez’s hand around his neck.
"Dog! She was never…"
"Of course not!" Webb gasped out. Squeezing Victor’s wrist until he released him, Webb fought to regain his breath. "Your pardon, Captain. I was merely repeating what someone told me back in England. Men like Palmer see any woman as willing when they want their pleasures. Yes, we will kill him. You said you wanted the honor of it. If you can reach him before Chegwidden does then so be it. But you will not do it tonight. I want no trouble and they have found the body of the Sergeant."
"What!" Galindez’s temper calmed and he looked quickly to the window.
"There were men running around yelling about it twenty minutes ago. You threw him in a cesspool!"
"I thought you didn’t understand Spanish that well." Galindez muttered.
"I know enough to figure that out. What were you thinking? The damn thing floated right to the surface! Fortunately, he was naked. From what I could overhear they have no idea who he was."
"Agradezca al dios por ése." Galindez growled.
"God could care less, Captain. Now lets get back to the ship. I hope Chegwidden has returned from his little meeting."
16 July 1564
Aboard the Trident
Lagos, Portugal
Late night
Martyn returned to the Trident, where Tronada was waiting. The Moor lifted his eyebrows and finally spoke, "Did your lady bring you news?"
"Aye, she did. And gold. We will have all we need," Martyn said quietly. He took one of the bags of gold and gave it to Tronada. "There is more. You keep this in case it is needed. I have another bag of gold for Lord Webb."
Tronada was puzzled. On the surface, Martyn was calm, yet his eyes held a menace. "The news of your niece? Is she hurt?"
Martyn nodded. His voice, too, had a dangerous tone. "The new captain on the Gorgon, his name is Palmer. I am going to kill him."
"Who are you planning to kill, old friend?" Webb's voice interrupted the conversation.
Martyn glared at the man, "Palmer. The new captain of the Gorgon."
Webb stared incredulously at Martyn. <<<If he wants to kill him, then he knows that Palmer raped Francesca. How in the hell did he find that out?>>> Webb was even more surprised when Martyn handed him a leather pouch filled with gold doubloons and pieces of eight. "Where did you get this?"
Tronada smiled, "From his guardian angel," he said enigmatically. Martyn gave the Moor a dark look, but said nothing.
"I want to know, Martyn. How did you come by such a sum?" Webb paused. "Do we have other enemies who will be looking for this gold?"
Martin looked Webb coldly in the eye, "No one is looking for this gold. It is not stolen. It was given to me in order that we might save the women. Take it. Use it to buy one of them. I have more gold; I will buy the other two. Francesca and whichever one of the others comes up first. You take the second lady. That way we'll seem less suspicious."
"I know you are not a thief, Martyn. I feared it might have been won in a game of chance and that those less lucky might seek revenge," Webb said quietly.
"Tell me the details of the plan. Is it still what we decided?" Martyn asked.
"Here is what we will do," Webb began. Martyn listened closely as Webb filled in the details of the plan they had outlined the night before.
17 July 1564
Rua Senhora da Graça
Early Afternoon
The gallery of the pit was full. The pit itself was once again empty. Normally, men would come place their bids and either leave satisfied or empty-handed. Today something was in the air and men had sent their purchases along under the guard of trusted underlings. Others, knowing full well that they could never hope to afford the delights to come still sat back in the scorching hot stone seats to witness the spectacle.
They had decided at the tavern that they should each enter the slave market alone. Rabb and Roberts would wait outside and keep an eye open for Palmer. Webb pulled Galindez to a small alcove. "What if he recognizes you?"
"He’s never seen me." Galindez mopped his brow and wondered how the spy could look so cool in the black courtier’s clothing that Victor had returned to him to wear for the auction.
"Never? You said that you had bad blood between you. You said it on the Trident!" Webb insisted.
"There is bad blood. And I don’t want to talk about it now. Excuse me, senor." Galindez went and talked to the slave master who had obviously tried to clean up a little, donning a somewhat clean vest over his soiled shirt. He still made Victor want to gag.
"How much longer, Senor Coleiro?" He ground out.
Coleiro wiped his brown with a filthy rag. "They’re being brought up now. Rest easy. I see that the Commandante could not make it today."
"Correct." Galindez nodded. They had been lucky again on that count. Tronada and two men from the ship had ridden out to meet the Commandante’s carriage. Galindez only hoped that they had kept their features well hidden and that no one would stumble upon the site where they had hidden the very angry, tightly bound commander and his two guards. Fortunately, what passed as a magistrate for Lagos had decided that the naked body found floating in the town’s cesspool was that of an itinerant Italian. Galindez wasn’t sure, but he knew Webb had something to do with it. He just wasn’t sure what.
"Just stand right there. You have the money?"
"No, senor. As I told you, the commandante sent an associate." He turned and pointed to the well-dressed bald man sitting in the shaded seats.
"That is Commandante Rendondo's associate! Oh dear, I didn’t know, I charged him extra for the seat."
Galindez shrugged. "It is in the shade, Coleiro. No one begrudges you the money. But I can tell he is growing impatient."
Martyn said rigid in his seat. He wasn’t much of a churchgoer, wasn’t really sure what god he believed in. Adele certainly wouldn’t accept the existence of Cordelia. <<<But by the Heavens, she does exist!>>> Martyn was quite sure that no God worth the title would approve of this. Slavery had existed throughout time, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. His eyes wandered restlessly over the crowd. He had only met ‘Captain’ Palmer once and he hadn’t been very impressed. However, Palmer had hurt his niece and Martyn would have his revenge. It was his right, not Galindez’s, though the man had been nervous and upset about something ever since he had returned to the ship last night. Webb hadn’t been much help, only saying that the Spaniard had seen all three women, given Lady Beth the dagger and told each one not to acknowledge their presence.
The crowd was growing restless. Two late arrivals slunk into the amphitheater and Chegwidden swallowed his hiss of anger. One was Palmer. Martyn pressed deeper into the shade, but Palmer didn’t even bother to look at the other men around him. He just flopped down on the first open seat and put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his fisted hands. The other late arrival was dressed like Webb - all in black, with a long cape over his pants and shirt. Instead of finding a seat though, Tronada settled his shoulder against the wall and waited.
Coleiro stepped into the center of the pit and shaded his eyes as he looked up into the crowd. Clearing his voice several times, he finally managed in a raspy voice. " You have been waiting and sweating for a treat like these next goods. Believe me these fine English maidens are worth your sweat." He raised his hand and the doors leading to the cells creaked open. The crowd seemed to draw in all the air available in that hot hellish place. The three women walked out, their feet bare but their heads held high. Each one was more beautiful than the next. Sarah and Francesca’s hair hung down their backs, but Beth’s hair was done up in a spectacular, intricate knot trailing down the back of her head.
Coleiro reached for Beth, but she jerked away and spat at him. "Don’t touch me you infectious, fat-kidneyed boar-pig." The crowd above the pit went wild with glee.
"Ah, the very height of English gentility. What is my first bid?" Coleiro pushed Beth until she was forced to step up on a stone. "Note the fine line of her body." There was little doubt that Beth and all the women were slender but well endowed. The muslin shifts seemed to disappear in the harsh sun. Their sweat molded the material to their bodies. Beth tried to keep her head held high if for no other reason than she wanted to find Clayton Webb. But the sun was shining down on her and she could barely open her eyes all the way."
"Ten pieces of eight!" Came an unfamiliar deep baritone.
"Ah, the Commandante’s man wants you, my dear."
"Twelve pieces of eight!" A high pitched whine was heard.
"Senor Mendez! Excellent choice. I’m sure that you can find someone willing to take her maidenhead for her in your most reputable house in Lisbon." The crowd’s hiss of surprise rose. "Oh, did I fail to mention, she is a virgin! We certified it ourselves."
"Then she is no longer a virgin!" cried a jokester from the crowd.
"Very humorous, but I have my reputation to regard and she is a virgin!" Several more men called out a few bids but in the end it was between Martyn and the brothel keeper from Lisbon.
"Fifty pieces of eight!" Martyn called out.
"Bah. No whore is worth that! She’s yours!"
Martyn tossed a bag of money down to one of Coleiro’s henchmen who quickly counted it and nodded. Tying her hands in front of her, another dragged her across the yard and threw her at Martyn’s feet. "The Commandante always enjoys taming a hellion."
Coleiro called one last insult before pointing to Francesca. Catcalls could be heard as the cringing girl was brought forward. She was trying desperately to pull the shift tight around her to keep anyone from seeing her shape. "Come now girl!" He fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her to the dais. "Unfortunately, she is not a virgin, but…" He looked toward the commandante’s agent. "Ah Senor, the Sergeant did not tell you?"
Martyn was having trouble breathing. The black rage that he felt when Cordelia had finally told him last night returned ten-fold. Galindez turned and met his gaze. There was an answering anger in the Spaniard’s eyes that promised that the two would have their revenge on Palmer.
"The sergeant told me." Martyn called down. "It cuts her worth." He said viciously, refusing to make eye contact with his niece. "However, Commandante Rendondo needs another serving wench. Three pieces of eight."
"Oh, I don’t know, Senor." The oily voice of the brothel owner called down. "What man in the throws of passion really cares if the sheath he sinks his sword in has been used before. She is still delgado e satisfazer, yes? Ten pieces of eight!" Chegwidden paled. It would do no good to call attention, but he would be damned if he let Francesca think for a moment that he wouldn’t bid more on her. "Twelve pieces."
"Fifteen."
"Twenty."
"Twenty! For a despoiled maiden!" The man growled. "I think perhaps you see something in her." He roared with laughter. "Me thinks the commandante will never know that his despoiled wench is even further despoiled! Well my friend, you will pay for the pleasure. Thirty pieces of eight!"
Martyn’s face turned a vivid shade of red and Webb feared that he would blow all their covers. His hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword.
"Thirty-one pieces." Martyn’s voice was low and deadly and the brothel owner suddenly turned as pale as the privateer was red. Sensing he was on very dangerous ground he rudely threw up his hands, signaling that he would not bid higher.
"Ho oh!" The auctioneer cried in delight. Roughly he pushed Francesca off the dais causing her to stumble into Beth who was waiting next to a guard. Beth reached out and steadied her.
"Tis fine now." She whispered.
"Nay! He knows." Francesca dissolved into tears. Everyone in the stands assumed it was because of her fate and while a few guffawed, several looked from the girl to the very angry man and felt some pity for the poor girl.
So excited by the prospect of his next prize, the slave owner didn’t bother to collect the money for Francesca. "He is going nowhere without paying me." He hissed as he waved off his guard. Turning to the crowd he shouted. "Now for the jewel, my friends!" Coreila was beside himself with glee. He had already made more on the two girls than he had on all the rest of his previous offerings. It would be a very good night. He looked over at Palmer expecting to see a satisfied smirk on the pirate’s face. He was surprised to see worry and fear there instead.
Something wasn’t right. Palmer knew it in his gut. He didn’t quite know why yet, but he had a good sense for these things and he was on his guard. The next girl would tell the tale. If the same man bid for her then he knew it was a set up. He wasn’t sure what he would do about it, but a cold fist of fear suddenly gripped his stomach.
"Isn’t she lovely, senors? See the way the sun kisses her hair. Have you ever seen such hair? And these breasts!" The man squeezed Sarah’s breast. Instead of swearing at him like Beth had done or cringe like Francesca she stood straight, her eyes locked on Webb’s.
The sun had sunk behind the rim so Clay could clearly see her without the sun blinding him. He had always loved her for just being there; for being the most beautiful and amusing of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. But now, as she suffered indignities that no man would stand for, would rather die than accept, he fell in love with her courage and strength. He saw the pain, the embarrassment but more, he saw her steely determination and he swore that he would protect her from this point onward. He silently swore that no one would stand between them. Not even Elizabeth herself.
Evidently several other men in the crowd liked what they saw because before Clay could even open his mouth he heard three bids in quick succession.
"Ten pieces of eight"
"Fifteen!"
"Twenty!"
With more calm than he felt Webb forced himself not to jump the bid too high. "Thirty pieces of eight."
The brothel keeper from Lisbon felt he had been cheated out of two very likely prospects. He knew he could make good money off of either of the first two, but this one! This one he wanted for himself. This one he would tutor in the skills of a good prostitute until not only could he make a descent profit but also enjoy her body for himself. "Fifty pieces of eight."
Webb hissed an oath, but forced himself to remain calm. His cover was that of a rich, idle Italian merchant, looking for a mistress. He knew the ways of the world and knew that he should only bid so high. They had discussed the possibility that they might be outbid and what they would do if the worst should happen. Several trusted crewmembers of both the Revenge and the Trident waited outside on several streets. Clay had personally described each woman. Tronada had double-checked each man’s location. Webb suddenly didn’t care. "Sixty!"
"Seventy!"
No one else bothered to try and bid against the two men. Several muttered between themselves. Webb thought he detected movement from where Chegwidden sat, but he never took his eyes off Sarah. He would not let her think for one second that he would allow another man to ‘own’ her for even a breath of a moment.
"One hundred pieces of eight!"
A hush fell across the crowd. The only sound that could be heard was the slave master’s shocked wheezing. "Is th-th-that the l-l-last bid?"
Webb waited. He fingered his money pouch. He had been shocked at the amount of money that Chegwidden had given him. He had the hundred gold coins, more if need be. But he waited.
"What is this nonsense! Why would you bid so much?" The question didn’t come from behind him as he would have expected but from the front. Clayton Webb had never met Clark Palmer, but Tronada had a look of anxiety and Galindez’s hand was firmly on his sword hilt.
"Ci è un problema, signore?" Webb asked as coolly has he could. Standing up, he walked past the pirate, studiously ignoring everyone except the slave master and his prize. Taking the purse from his belt he reached inside and began to take handfuls from it.
Coleire watched with lust as his hands were filled with gold.
"I asked you a question, you fop!" Palmer roughly grabbed Webb’s shoulder. Two high pitched screams could be heard above the angry roar. As Webb turned, he just made out the last of the sunlight as it flashed on the steel blade. Soft firm hands pulled him back, but he saw the knife descend on him.
Suddenly Palmer was spun around. Webb made out the huge form behind Palmer. Saw the blade flash. Heard the surprised grunt of pain. He struggled away from Sarah to grab at Palmer but Galindez beat him to the English pirate.
Victor had been surprised at the speed with which Chegwidden moved. The Trident’s captain had reached Palmer in time to save Webb from getting a knife in the back, but the momentum with which he spun the pirate around doomed Martyn to taking the knife himself. Victor managed to pull Palmer off Chegwidden and before Palmer could raise the bloodied knife again, Galindez deftly cut the pirate's throat. "This is for my sister, you son of a diseased dog." Letting the man fall to the floor they faced the crowd. "Does anyone here dispute our rights?" Galindez shouted.
No one, not even the brothel owner spoke a word. The slave master, glad to not have to give up the better part of his sale just shook his head no.
"Uncle Martyn." Francesca whispered reverently.
"No time, my lady." Tronada reached down and picked up his friend. "Come, before they change their minds."
Together the six hurried from the pit. As they made the gate they could hear the crowd begin to awaken from their stupefied shock. "We have to get back to the ships." Tronada insisted. "Rabb!" He called to the first mate of the Gorgon. "Come and help the ladies."
Rabb and Michael Roberts stepped out from the alley where they and several of the men waited. Rabb tried to take Sarah and Francesca by the hand, but Sarah wouldn’t let go of Webb’s arm and Francesca wouldn’t leave Tronada’s side. Her hand held her uncle’s in a death grip.
"There are men coming." Beth cried and reached up and pulled the dagger Galindez had given her from her thick hair.
Rabb stood in awe of the beauty before him. But he drew his own sword. "Go! Get back to the ships. We will follow." Six men lined up behind the two. Rabb insisted. "My lady, there is little you can do with that thing." He learned how wrong he was, when one of Palmer’s henchmen, seeing what he thought was an easy target lunged at Beth from a doorway. Before any of the men could react, Beth ducked and plunged the dirk into the man’s gullet, pulled it free and grabbed up his sword.
"You’re probably right!" She grinned. She wiped the bloody knife off on the body, handed it to the startled Rabb and whispered. "Don’t lose Lord Clayton’s dagger."
She then deftly welded the sword and pointed it at another man intent on claiming her. "Are you sure you want to try, little man?"
Rabb, his eyes as big as gold pieces, watched until he heard another cry and, without thinking, ran the brothel owner through. "Come on! We cannot take on the entire town."
Webb was certain that the crowd chasing them was spurred on more by the fact that Martyn hadn’t taken the time to pay the slave master the pieces of eight that he had bid for Francesca. And there was little doubt that both their purses were still heavy with gold. Webb kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Rabb and the rest were inching their way down the street. "We’re going to have to find somewhere to rest. Let them get by us and then make our way to the port." He told Tronada. "We’re going to have to make sure the bleeding stops."
Galindez motioned them down a narrow alley. "Back there is a barn. Give the owner a coin and he’ll bring you water and food. I’m going back to help Rabb."
"I’m coming too." Webb insisted.
"No!" Sarah cried.
"No." Galindez pulled Webb closer. Dropping his voice so Tronada couldn’t hear he whispered. "The owner, Dominquez hates Moors. He won’t let you stay if Tronada tries to bargain with him."
Webb studied the other man carefully. He couldn’t tell if Victor was telling the truth or not, but the pirate’s next words settled the argument. "If anything happens to Captain Chegwidden, you must make sure that Francesca and Lady Sarah get back to England."
Webb would have questioned him closer but they could hear the shouts of the approaching crowd. "Go. Damn you! We’ll meet you back at the ships tonight."
Galindez hadn’t been lying about the barn owner’s hatred of Moors. Webb had to offer two gold coins to secure the shabby little building’s use. But the owner did bring them clean straw and Tronada was able to lower Chegwidden down on to the thick pile they built up. Francesca sank down and rested her uncle’s head in her lap. "How bad is it?" She whispered fearfully.
Tronada examined the wound to his friend’s side. "I’ve seen worse. The bleeding should stop soon." Sparing Webb an upward glance he continued. "Do you think you could buy some clean cloth from our ‘host?’"
"I’ll get what I can." Webb moved toward the small house in front of the barn. Sarah sat down next to Francesca and put her arm around her. "It will be all right, Franny. You’ll see." She shivered. Even in July, once the sun set, the breeze from the ocean quickly chilled the night air.
"Sarah?" She turned and saw Webb standing there, a bundle of cloth in his arm. "Here, give this to Tronada." She found an almost clean rag and handed it back to the first mate.
"Oh. Oh, thank you, Lord Clayton." She sighed when she saw the other items. The caftan was way too big and not very clean at all, but at least it covered her. Now that they were alone, her shyness returned full force.
As Sarah was adjusting her new clothes, Webb crouched down next to Francesca. "Here, let me take your place. You can put this on. I’m afraid it isn’t very clean."
Francesca touched his face. "It will be fine, Lord Webb. Really it will. Thank you. Not just for the…." She choked up and the tears began to fall.
"Franny. Don’t. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. He’s a tough old bastard." Webb looked down and saw the privateer glaring up at him. But he also saw a glint of thanks in Martyn's eye. "Come on. I’m sure he doesn’t want to look at my face for very long."
Francesca lowered her head, unable to look into her uncle's face. "What is wrong, child?" Martyn whispered.
"Uncle Martyn, I am so ashamed," Francesca mouthed the words. "What will I tell Papa? He will be so disappointed in me. And so angry."
"You'll not tell him, I will, if anyone must. And I think you might be surprised at his response." Martyn found it hard to speak but forced the words out. "He loves you child, as do I. He will be glad you are safe and home again." He reached for her hand, "And little one, you should not be ashamed. You have done nothing wrong, although you have been sorely used. The man who did it is dead and will trouble you no more."
Francesca looked at him in disbelief, "You will tell him if you live, Uncle Martyn. But your wound is serious."
"I will live," Martyn grinned. "Of that, I am not worried."
"I suppose I shall go to the convent," Francesca murmured.
Martyn lifted his body, "Nay, child. Go to the convent if you wish to take the vows, but not to escape this."
Tears fell from Francesca's eyes, "But what man would want me now?"
"A good man, a wise man, a man with discerning tastes, " Martyn said. <<<Captain Galindez, if I am not mistaken.>>> "I must rest, child. Stay with Lord Webb while Tronada takes me back to the ship."
The Moor stepped forward, "He's right, Miss Francesca. He needs rest and I need to get him back to the ship. You stay with Lord Webb and Lady Sarah. The three of you will move faster alone. Your uncle and I will return to the ships through another route and we will meet again. He will be better when you see him next."
Martyn lay back and closed his eyes. It would be well. Francesca knew little of Alberthol other than the lowly man who ran the small farm, read his books and missed his wife. But all she had to do was look at her brother, Dylan, to see the man Alberthol had been in his youth. Martyn had always known Alberthol was smarter than he was. He could read well enough, but his brother understood the ancient and modern tracts. Alberthol had proven himself in battle and then calmly announced that he was done with it. He was certainly more religious, perhaps even more than their sister. <<<Oh, Cordelia, they would never accept you though, my love.>>>
His eyes fluttered open as his companions moved about him. Francesca still knelt behind him, cradling his head her lap. The other woman, Sarah, sank beside him and lifted a wooden ladle to his lips. He met her eyes and saw resolve and courage there. His chest lifted in slight amusement as he remembered the intensity with which Webb had bid on her.
He knew the story of Lady Sarah and strongly suspected that Elizabeth might find a rival for power if the lady ever did marry the boy prince. He drank the water and winced in pain as his wound was cleaned and bound. He wasn’t afraid, but something told him that the wound was worse than his old friend suspected. As unconsciousness stole over him he vaguely heard the two men quietly arguing back and forth.